


Hold Me Fast

by ThePianoHasBeenThinking



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePianoHasBeenThinking/pseuds/ThePianoHasBeenThinking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a crash (& a spilled drink) in the early hours of a London summer day and evolves into something bigger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 20th June 2003 [Summer]

**(05:30)**

Willow Summers walked along the South bank, staring sideways at the beautiful views of London. The sunrise was spectacular at 5:30 am; the sky overhead was clear, indicating another wonderful summer’s day. A light breeze played with the stray strands of her hair, gathered up in a loose bun. It was her favourite time of the day, when the streets were relatively empty and it felt as if she had the whole place to herself.

She turned a corner and banged into a firm obstacle. Realising in a split second that the obstacle was in fact a person’s chest – a guy’s, to be exact – she was mortified. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking at where I was walking, sorry!” To make matters worse, the half-filled cup she was holding had splashed its contents onto the guy’s black shirt. She stiffened, reaching for the tissues in her bag and handing them to the guy.

“It’s perfectly fine. I was just heading home to change anyway,” the guy chuckled. Willow sighed in relief, glad that this person had a sense of humour. “Although…you _could_ make it up to me by accompanying me to breakfast, say, at 6:00?” he said, rocking back onto his heels with his hands in his pockets. Willow’s head snapped up, surprised to be asked out on a date by a complete stranger. ‘ _Did it count as a date?’_ she wondered.  
For the first time since their smashing – literally – encounter, she noticed his face. His eyes were a brilliant blue, his blonde hair curled every which way. But the best part was his smile. Accompanied with his amazing eyes, his smile lit up his face. Willow distantly considered that this alone could very possibly power the whole city.

“Erm…sure?” she said, the shock still only wearing off.  
“Great! I’ll meet you here at this exact corner at 6:00 then,” he replied cheerfully.  
“Okay, er, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.” Willow waved slightly as she walked slowly backwards.  
“Oh, wait! I don’t know your name!” he called, jogging up to her. Stretching out a hand, he announced, “I’m Hiddleston. Thomas Hiddleston.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully.  
Willow laughed as she shook his hand. “Very funny, Hiddleston. Willow Summers, at your service.” She bowed dramatically, sweeping a hand in front and another slightly behind her.  
“Well I look forward to furthering our acquaintance. I shall see you later,” he chuckled.  
“Aye, aye, sir!” Willow saluted mockingly, eliciting another laugh from him before she turned and walked away, a subtle skip in her step.  
“You can call me Tom!” he yelled at her retreating back.

“Farewell, Tom,” she called over her shoulder, waving her right hand.

 

**(06:00)**

Tom Hiddleston leaned against the side of the building, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt were rolled to his elbows; the shirt was open to reveal a black form-fitting (Queen) T-shirt underneath. He was staring off into the near distance, where Big Ben and the London Eye towered. Tom noticed movement on the edge of his vision and he turned to see Willow walking towards him, her eyes directed to the ground. When they had bumped into each other earlier before, he had been gladly surprised by her light grey eyes that shone in the morning light. Plus, she had a wicked sense of humour. He had felt a great urge to pat her head, considering she was a head shorter than his 6'3”. He watched as she drew closer, the sleeves of her black knit jumper pushed up to reveal several different coloured bands around her right wrist. A black-band watch was wrapped around her left wrist. Her black combat boots reflected the sun's rays. Her raven-black hair was swept up in a loose bun as before, but a black bowler hat sat on the top of her head. Willow's bulging messenger bag bumped into her left hip with every step as she walked steadily towards him. Tom pushed himself off the wall as she finally glanced up at him, a few paces away. “Mornin',” she said, smiling shyly.

“Nice to see you again, Willow Summers,” he replied, a full grin filling up his face. “I know the perfect place for this occasion. If you don't mind, of course.”  
Tom placed a hand on her lower back as they started walking.  
“’Tis absolutely fantastico,” she announced in an exaggerated Italian accent, making him laugh.

 

They spent the whole day wandering the streets of London, taking turns in asking each other questions. Tom had graduated from the University of Cambridge at 21, where he had studied Classics. He was now about to start his first year at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, after a year off. Willow had also studied at the University of Cambridge – starting at 17, unlike Tom, who started at 18 – taking a double major of Classics and Music for three years. They were both surprised that the other had been in the same course for 3 years without knowing each other, though it was entirely reasonable, given the vast number of students. Willow had also taken a year off after her graduation. Starting in September, she would be a first-year photography student at the Camberwell College of Art. Hence why she kept snapping photos of anything that caught her interest – with her professional-looking camera, the strap of which hung around her neck.

Willow kept apologising profusely to Tom. “It’s a horrendous habit of mine,” she explained. “I really should stop taking photos when I am with people.”  
“Well, I see it as a fantastic thing. You’re passionate about what you do, and that’s wonderful.”  
Whenever she thought he wasn't looking, she took a few pictures of him. _'Just in case I never see him again,'_ she thought. Little did she know the opposite would happen.

Tom himself had a deep passion for Shakespeare. He had played a role in several Shakespeare plays. At one time, he leapt up onto a low wall and dramatically delivered a line from Hamlet: “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” There was a moment of silence as Willow stood there with a dreamy look on her face. “That’s one of my favourite lines from Shakespeare. I know, I am a completely hopeless romantic,” she laughed quietly.

Tom raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Yet you do not like Valentine’s Day?” Willow had mentioned this earlier when they had passed a shop selling romantic merchandise.  
“It is because of all that red and pink,” she shuddered. “The notion of love and companionship has just been commercialised. It’s like you can only show your love on Valentine’s Day! It is ridiculous. If you really love someone, you wouldn’t need a Valentine’s Day. You would show them you love them every day.”

Willow glanced sideways at Tom’s thoughtful face and grinned nervously. “Sorry, I’m ranting. Another one of my horrendous habits.”  
“Psh. It's not horrendous. Ranting helps with releasing your emotions and your thoughts,” he told her. “It’s true though. Valentine’s Day is indeed commercialised,” he mused. “Tell you what, next Valentine’s Day, you and I should have a Disney movie marathon. It shall be fun!”

They were both enormous fans of Disney movies. Willow agreed, thinking that this was indeed better than spending Valentine’s Day flipping through channels and romantic comedies showing on every channel.


	2. 24th July 2003 [Summer]

In the space of a month, they had become best friends. Their personalities and humour were perfectly compatible with each other. Occasionally they amused themselves with playing small pranks on strangers. Whether it was when they were walking around, in a café, or searching for books in a book store, they were constantly amused by one thing or another.

Today, Willow and Tom were in a shopping centre. Tom stood looking at shirts in the men's corner of the clothes store. Meanwhile, Willow wandered around the women's section, occasionally running her fingers through the fabric of a shirt or jeans. Her hair was out of its usual bun today, rather falling loosely around her face. She wore a green T-shirt, annotated with the exact quote from Hamlet Tom had recited last month.

Willow had always found stranger's conversations amusing, so it wasn't any surprise that she smirked when the girl standing close to her exclaimed to her friends, “I want to be taller! I wish I had a late growth spurt or something!”  
Willow placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. She had a serious face on as she proclaimed solemnly, “Honey, they’re called heels.” She patted the shocked girl’s shoulder reassuringly as the teen’s friends burst into giggles. “Although, platforms might be more comfortable. They tend to not make you feel like you’re perpetually walking down a slope.” By then the girl and her companions had dissolved into full-out laughter (which was pleasant, but also somewhat annoying due to their high pitch).

Willow felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around to see Tom standing there green eyes observing the laughter-paralysed girls quizzically. “What happened here?”  
“Oh, nothing. Just a couple of life lessons from a vertically challenged gal,” she explained, gesturing to herself.  
The group of girls explained as best as they could through their continual giggles. Tom snickered as he got their gist.  
“Sorry, ladies, but I must steal Miss Jester here away. Goodbye,” he said, hooking an arm around Willow’s waist.

“Did you see how tall that girl was? She was younger than me, but taller! Man, how I love being vertically challenged,” Willow said as he led her away from the girls.  
Tom grinned down at her. “I quite like this height actually.” He ruffled her hair playfully.  
Willow glared at him, making no attempt to fix her hair. She blew upwards at a strand of hair hanging in front of her face, making it soar before falling back onto her face. She repeated this action a couple of times as Tom smirked, until she finally gave up and swept it back into its rightful place using her hand.

He asked her laughingly, “Why didn’t you do that the first time?”

“Because I was too lazy,” she huffed.


	3. 14th February 2004 [Winter]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is EXTREMELY short.

Willow and Tom huddled in their sleeping bags, the hoods pulled over their heads. The only time they allowed their hand to escape the warmth and comfort of their sleeping bags was to reach for the popcorn in the bowl resting on the couch between them. Tom reached out his right hand towards the bowl, eyes staring intently at the screen. His hand clanked against the bottom of the bowl, signalling the absence of its contents. He reached for the remote, pausing the movie they were watching – Singin' In The Rain. Cosmo's face was frozen in a funny face, causing Willow to burst out laughing. “Who’s going to get the popcorn?” Tom asked her solemnly.

“Don’t look at me! I’m not doing it!” Willow said, still laughing. She would calm down, but every time she so much as glanced at the screen, she would burst into laughter again. _This is definitely the best Valentine's Day I have ever had_ , Willow thought to herself.

Tom unzipped his sleeping bag and got up, shivering in the cold. He wrapped the unzipped sleeping bag around his shoulders, picked up the empty bowl and headed for the kitchen. Willow jumped up from the couch and hopped along behind him. Tom turned around and laughed his signature laugh, commenting that she looked “like a teeny bunny”. She snagged the packet of popcorn and poured it into the bowl he held out. He shoved it into the microwave, pressing buttons. The microwave did its job, and minutes later he had a bowl of popcorn in his hands. Willow jumped and tried to reach the popcorn, but Tom held it above his head, extending his arm to it maximum. “Ehehehehehe!” he chuckled, looking down at Willow as she hopped up and down, one arm supporting her sleeping bag and the other trying to reach the bowl. Finally she gave up, sticking out her bottom lip and crossing her arms. Unfortunately, she then tried to simultaneously cross her arms and hop back to her spot on his couch. This resulted in her flailing her arms as she fell face-down onto the ground.

When Tom reached her, her shoulders were shaking madly. “Oh, Willow! Are you okay?!” He placed a hand on her shoulder, having set down the bowl on the couch. However, it turned out that Willow was in reality laughing hysterically. Within seconds, tears were running down her face. Unsure of whether they were tears of pain or laughter, he questioned her. Willow herself didn’t know which it was, and she spent a long time hysterically laughing on the floor while Tom attempted to get her standing up again. By the time she was on her feet, her cheeks were stained with tear tracks and she was sniffling. Willow clutched her sides, her body sore from hysterical laughter.


	4. 12th September 2005 [Autumn]

Tom leaned back, resting his arms on the picnic table. He shielded his blue eyes against the sun's glare. Willow had long since learned that his eyes were constantly changing colour; even he himself never knew the exact colour. Tom spotted Willow in the near distance and waved at her, smiling. She waved back, and then proceeded to weave her way to Tom in an odd fashion. Finally she plopped down onto the seat beside him, swinging her bag around to rest on the grassy ground.

“What on Earth were you doing there?” Tom asked her teasingly.  
“You mean when I was walking?” she asked. Tom nodded and she explained, “Well, I was trying to avoid stepping on the daisies growing there.”  
When Tom questioned her reason, she leaned back against the table. “I see them as a metaphor, almost. Everyone loves and adores roses, the beauties, but they never stop to admire the daisies. They take them for granted, and of course, some think they are a nuisance, on account of them being weeds.”  
“Like that girl, over there.” Here she pointed at a redhead, model-like girl, walking with her friends across the grass. “She's a rose. She's a beauty.”  
“I think you are a rose,” Tom said.  
“But I am not. I know that for a fact. I am a daisy, plain as day. We daisies are the ones people do not chase. We're the second options. Although, it is amazing when we find that one person who thinks we are their 'rose'.” She motioned the inverted commas while saying 'rose'. “Anyway, enough talk about roses and daisies. I'm meeting up with my other best friend, Alice. She's coming to visit! Do you want to come along?” 

Willow had told Tom and Alice about each other a couple of months back. Alice – who lived in Oregon – was Willow's best friend, having met her in their first year at Cambridge University. Most of Willow's photography portfolio was of Alice; her passion was dance. Instead of the black hair Willow had, Alice had bright red, wavy hair, reaching to her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed a deep green colour. Alice was so much more serious than Willow, which wasn’t so difficult, as Willow was constantly cheerful and lively – often overly so.

 

It was a cool autumn’s day, and the two of them were wrapped up in coats. A breeze blew through the London streets. Willow and Tom walked up to the café. A girl standing in front of the café had bright red hair, blowing in the slight breeze.

“Alice!” Willow yelled, throwing herself at her. Alice gave a little “oomph” noise as she was tackled into a hug. Willow eventually released her, after squeezing her so tightly it seemed like Alice was going to break.  
“It’s nice to see you too, Wil!” Alice exclaimed. She turned to Tom, who was standing by with an amused grin on his face. “I’m assuming this is the famous Tom?” she smirked.  
“Tom, meet Alice. Ali, this is Tom,” Willow gestured to each person in turn.  
Without giving them a chance to shake hands, she dragged them both into the café.  
They both looked at her, amused. “What?” she asked. “I’m starving! I barely had anything to eat this morning, I was so excited!” 

A few moments later, they were huddled in a booth next to a window. Willow sat next to Alice, both of them across the table from Tom.  
“Willow’s told me quite a bit about you. You’re in your third year at the drama school, aren’t you? That must be amazing!” Alice said.  
“Yes, it’s absolutely wonderful. It’s what I love doing, what I’m passionate about. And I’ve heard a lot about you, too. You’re a dancer, an amazing one.”  
Alice gave him a wide smile. “Thanks.”

Their polite conversation eventually gave way to more boisterous laughter and grins as they talked about anything and everything – ranging from crazy llamas to university madness.

 

Later, Willow was flipping open her wallet and pulling out her credit card to pay for her goods. Tom happened to glance over at it, and was surprised to learn that her name wasn’t ‘Willow Summers’. In fact, the card proclaimed her name to be ‘Juliet Summers’.  
“Your name is Juliet?” he exclaimed.  
Willow – or rather Juliet – groaned. “I never liked the name, due to its connection with the famous Shakespearean ‘Juliet’. When I introduce myself to people, I insist that they call me by my middle name, ‘Willow’,” she explained in a droll tone. “I even got cast as ‘Juliet’ when we did the play in secondary school! Somehow, I still remember my lines, even after all these years. They’re permanently ingrained in my brain now.” She thanked the cashier staff and headed to where Alice was waiting, outside of the café. Following her, Tom had a rather brilliant idea and he smirked as he thought about it.

“Recite some lines from it.” He poked her teasingly. When Willow rolled her eyes, he said, “Come on, you know you want to. Look, I’ll even do Romeo’s lines for you.”

At this stage they were heading to Willow’s apartment, a 20 minute bus ride away. As they walked to the appropriate bus stop, Tom repeatedly begged and cajoled her to recite those lines. At one point, he went down on one knee. Romeo’s lines never sounded as good as they did coming from his lips, in his voice. That man’s voice could turn anything to a molten heap – no matter animate or inanimate.


	5. A New Year

**31 st December 2006 [W** **inter]**

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!” The crowd chanted, counting down to the new year. Fireworks exploded into the midnight sky, bright colours blending in the London winter cold. Everywhere in London, couples kissed. Strangers that had just seen each other a couple of minutes ago embraced, in the celebration of the New Year. Tom and Willow were huddled together, clad in thick coats, on Waterloo Bridge. After this, they were going to go back to her flat. They had arranged for him to stay at her place for a night a few days before.

Willow looked up, and found herself staring into Tom's green eyes. They were the same eyes she had been gazing into for years, yet she found herself holding her breath. It seemed lately whenever she looked at him, this exact thing happened.

Tom looked down at her grey – bordering on blue – eyes and realised if ever there was a time to act on his ever-growing feelings for her, it was now. So being the man of action he was, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, circling his arms around her. After a moment of shock, Willow wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. It was very possibly the best place to have their first kiss. Nothing interrupted them, as couples all around were locked in embraces of their own. When they broke apart, Willow bit her lip and looked down at the ground, quite unused to the feelings she was experiencing towards Tom.

“Willow,” he said seriously.  
“Yes?” She looked up at his sparkling eyes.  
“It's incredibly cold,” he shivered. Willow laughed and linked her arm through his, leading him back to her flat.

 

**1 st January 2007 [W** **inter]**

Willow woke up to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Sighing, she turned onto her side to see a few weak rays of sunlight peeking through the closed curtains of her bedroom. Suddenly she remembered the events of the night before. A giddy smile appeared on her face as she closed her eyes. They had fallen asleep on the floor in their respective sleeping bags after watching several movies.

Tom shut the bathroom door with a click, treading back over to Willow. She opened her eyes as he shuffled around. Eventually he settled on his side, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Planting a kiss on her forehead, he closed his eyes as she did the same.

 

Willow woke up a few hours after, to find herself completely trapped in Tom’s arms. She tried moving his arms to no avail. Finding no other option, she wriggled downwards in her sleeping bag. Finally she popped out of his embrace, and sighing with relief at finding him still sleeping, she got up and headed for the kitchen. A few minutes later, she walked back in to find Tom still sleeping, his arms now thrown to either side of him. His phone rang somewhere in the distance and she went investigating, finding it creepily shuffling around on the kitchen countertop.

“Tom, Tom!” She shook him, trying to make him wake up. “Tom, it’s ten o’clock. You have – well, you _had_ – a phone call.”  
He groaned, turning over and sleepily flung an arm over his eyes. “Just give me one more hour,” he muttered. “Or a year.” 

Willow laughed at his reluctance. She shook him more vigorously, determined to make him get up. She squealed as he threw an arm around her waist and tugged her down. Falling on top of him, she found herself face-to-face with him, the bottom of her feet only coming to halfway down his shin. Her giggles died as he locked him arms around her, trapping her against his chest effectively. The expression in Tom’s eyes – blue today – was intense, even though he was barely awake.

“Good morning, my dear Juliet,” he grinned lazily.  
Smirking, Willow poked his shoulder. “I won!” she happily exclaimed.  
“Well, then I concede. You shall be rewarded accordingly. Close your eyes, darling.”  
Obediently, she did as she was bid. Suddenly her world inverted as she was flipped, Tom rolling over to pin her on the floor. Her gasp was smothered by his lips on hers. 

“There,” he said smugly, planting another kiss on the faint freckles across her flushed nose. Tom broke away and got up, padding over to the bathroom.

 

A few minutes – that is to say, an hour – later, Tom left her apartment, stepping into the winter chill of west London. He turned around, experiencing that cliché moment where he looked up at her, framed in the window of her apartment. She waved shyly as he stood there, smiling, on the cobblestone street. He waved and set off, while Willow took pictures of his back like the infatuated stalker that she was.


End file.
